Rehearsal
by alinaandalion
Summary: Nate and Sophie rehearse a play for a con.    "Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt."  As he spoke, he ran his thumb along her bottom lip.


"I still don't see why Sophie is the one grifting," Eliot said to Nate. "Parker is the type of girl he goes after."

"Are you trying to say that Sophie isn't capable of seducing him?" Nate asked. He kept an eye on the door. It would not be good if Sophie walked in on this conversation.

Eliot growled in irritation. "No. It's just that things like this could blow the entire con."

"Trust me, Eliot, Sophie is the right person for this. Parker would never be believable as an actress. Sophie might not be the man's normal target, but he's certainly taken advantage of women just like her. Besides, we would never hear the end of it if she didn't get to do this." Nate grinned with the satisfaction of having won the argument and took a sip of his drink.

Eliot started to protest, but Sophie walked into the apartment, a couple of books in her hand and a smile on her face.

"Hey, Nate, I made contact like you wanted," she said, a little breathless. "And, I'm already cast in his production of _Richard III_ as Anne."

Eliot shook his head and muttered something under his breath as he stalked off. Sophie looked after him and raised an eyebrow at Nate; Nate just gulped down the rest of his drink.

"Um, good job. Are you done for the day?"

"Yeah. Rehearsals start tomorrow morning."

Nate started to wander off to his staircase, but Sophie called him back.

"Nate, I was wondering if I could ask a favor."

He stopped and turned around to face her. "What do you need?"

"I need someone to rehearse with, and I was hoping you could help me out."

"I really need to talk with Hardison…"

"Please, Nate."

He groaned. She grabbed his hand and tugged him a little towards her, peering up at him through her dark lashes.

"Fine."

She shoved one of the books into his chest with a smile. "Act One, Scene Two."

"There's a lot of lines here. Do we have to go over all of them?"

"I just need to get a feel for the scene. It's been awhile since I've read it."

Nate hunched his back and twisted his fingers into what looked like an alien greeting. "Do you think this will do for Richard's deformities?"

Sophie laughed and shook her head. "He's going in a different direction from most productions. He's too vain to play Richard as a cripple. He's only going to have a small limp. Your Richard needs to be charismatic. Irresistable."

"I think I can manage that," Nate said with a grin. "Where do you want to start?"

"Wherever you feel like it."

Nate scanned the script for a good starting point and finding something suitable, spoke, "_He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, did it to help thee to a better husband._"

Sophie didn't miss a beat and spat out, "_His better_ _doth not breathe upon the earth_."

He smirked, reaching out to take her hand. "_He lives that loves thee better than he could._"

She jerked away from him, caught up in Anne's anger. "_Name him_."

"_Plantaganet_."

"_Why, that was he_."

"_The self-same name, but one of better nature_."

She looked at him, eyes wide with curiosity. "_Where is he?_"

"_Here_." He grimaced when she spit on him and asked, "_Why dost thou spit at me?_"

"_Would it were mortal poison for thy sake!_"

"_Never came poison from so sweet a place_," he replied, allowing sincerity to creep into his voice.

Her mouth twisted in bitter amusement. "_Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! Thou dost infect mine eyes_."

He continued on with his lines, amazed at the control of her anger that she tinged with sorrow. She was only listening now as he weaved Richard's seductive words. A small touch at her wrist; her pulse quickened and her cheeks flushed. He walked behind her, leaning in close to murmur a few lines into her ear. Her spine stiffened, and she turned her head away from him.

"_My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; but, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, my proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak._"

She gave him look filled with such loathing that he stumbled as he continued, "_Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt_." As he spoke, he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. Now, there was fear in her face. "_If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; which if thou please to hide in this true breast, and let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke and humbly beg the death upon my knee. Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry._"

He knelt and spread his hands open and wide, meeting her gaze. She still looked ready to kill him.

"_But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward_."

She bit her lip and averted her eyes, unable to look at him. Her free hand trembled, and she clenched it into a fist.

"_But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on_."

At his words, she whipped her head up to stare at him, her lips parted and her chest heaving. He knew it was all an act, but he couldn't help being a little carried away with her. She looked so vulnerable and confused that he wanted to throw aside the script and just kiss her.

He smiled and said gently, "_Take up the sword again, or take up me_."

Her voice almost too soft to hear, "_Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, I will not be thy executioner_."

"_Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it_."

She shook her head. "_I have already_."

"_That was in thy rage_." He moved towards her, taking her hand in his and pressing his lips to her palm. "_Speak it again, and even with the word, this hand, which for thy love did kill thy love, shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; to both their deaths shalt thou be accessory_."

She was finding a little hard to breathe as she looked up at him. "_I would I knew your heart_."

" _'Tis figured in my tongue_." He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

As he bent his neck to spread light kisses along her neck, she whispered, "_I fear me both are false._"

He kissed the corner of her mouth. "_Then never man was true_."

"_Well, well, put up your sword_." She gave him a small smile and brushed her hand against his cheek.

"_Say, then, my peace is made_."

"_That shalt thou know hereafter_."

"_But shall I live in hope?_" He kissed her as soon as the words fell from his mouth.

She pushed him back, her chest heaving. "_All men, I hope, live so_."

"_Vouchsafe to wear this ring_."

"_To take is not to give_." The smile on her face was sad, but her dark eyes were fixated on him.

He closed her hand and clasped it between his. "_Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart._" He splayed her fingers across his chest above his heart. "_Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poor devoted servant may but beg one favour at thy gracious hand, thou dost confirm his happiness for ever._"

"_What is it?_"

He threw aside the script at that moment and pressed his lips to hers. Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders; he traced her bottom lip with his tongue, pressing gently, begging for permission. She let out a small whimper and pressed up against him. He pulled back, out of breath and cupped her cheek with his right hand.

"_My downright violence and scorn of fortunes may trumpet to the world: my heart's subdu'd even to the very quality of my lord_," she murmured, one of her hands playing lazily with the curls at the nape of his neck.

He tapped the tip of her nose with his forefinger. "Wrong play."

"It's still Shakespeare."

He leaned in close, his lips a breath from hers. "_Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee. And when I love thee not, Chaos is come again_."

She closed the distance between them and pressed her mouth to his, pushing her tongue into his mouth. He met her tongue with his and moaned at the taste of her. His hands were grasping at her thin blouse, his thumbs sneaking under the fabric to rub circles against her skin.

"_A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!_" Parker galloped down the stairs, a grin on her face.

Nate and Sophie flew apart, Sophie smoothing her clothes and hair, and Nate shooting Parker a disgruntled look.

"Did I interrupt something?" Parker asked as she leaned over the railing.

Sophie was laughing, so Nate answered, "No. Why don't you help Sophie run lines?"

Parker's face lit up, and it was Sophie's turn to look upset.

"Oh, I'm sure Parker would be incredibly bored by this," Sophie said quickly.

Parker shook her head and flew down the stairs. "No, it sounds like fun. I've never read Shakespeare before."

Sophie locked eyes with Nate, and he knew he would pay for this later, but he just shrugged his shoulders. "I have to check on Hardison. Have fun, you two."

He started up the stairs, chuckling as he heard Parker ask, "Why would Richard trade his kingdom for a horse? It doesn't seem like a very fair trade."


End file.
